


You're not a zombie?

by absofuckinlutely



Series: Malec meet-uglies [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, At the end a bit of, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, M/M, Magnus Bane & Ragnor Fell Friendship, Malec, Max Lightwood Dies, Meet-Ugly, Minor Character Death, Pre-Relationship, Ragnor Fell dies, graveyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absofuckinlutely/pseuds/absofuckinlutely
Summary: He was all alone and he never said thank you...Or, the one where Alec thinks Magnus is a zombie.Based on a prompt I found on tumblr:I dropped my watch in an open grave, jumped in to get it, and while you were visiting your dead grandmother, you saw me climbing out of the grave





	You're not a zombie?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is the first part of the malec meet-uglies. So instead where they meet all cute and it's soft and fluffy they're angry at each other and there is angst involved :)
> 
> Have fun reading!
> 
> **Disclaimer**  
> None of the characters are mine. Grammar mistakes are present. Plot inspired by a tumblr prompt, but it's changed quite a bit.

He let his fingers play with the grass next to him, wiggling a bit so he would sit more comfortable on the grass. He looked down at his lap where the flowers laid peacefully. Pretty pink flowers; zinnias. 

Pink, his favorite color.

He placed them gently on the grave, as if it would actually affect the person underneath it. 

“Hey,” He choked out, the wound still fresh. Tears gathered in his eyes when he didn’t get a response back. “Izzy went back to work today,” he continued, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. “I am worried for her, you know.” His eyes never left the flowers in front of him, not daring to actually look up at his name carved into the stone. 

He was worried for his sister, for his brother, too. They both were not dealing well with the sudden death. And though Alec had not expect them to, he couldn’t help but feel worried.

“I am sorry.” He let a few tears escape while he placed his hands useless in his lap. “I had- I should- it was my job to keep you save.” He let out a choked sob. “And I failed.” 

Goosebumps rose on his whole body at that thought. 

He had one job and he had failed. He should’ve been there. And instead he was reading the last Harry Potter book.

He did not only feel terrible, guilty and disappointed, he was also terrified. Straight up scared, because what if he couldn’t keep the others save? What if they died, too?

He hid his head in his hands, letting himself go completely ever since the incident. He just hadn’t had the _time_ to cry. He had to keep up a brave face for his siblings, who had cried freely. And at night? They would sleep with him, just like old times, just a bit more- cozier.

But everything for Izzy and Jace.

And whenever he did get some personal time? He threw himself into work. Working and working till he passed out from exhaustion.

This was the first time that he finally had time to realize what he had lost.

He raised his head from his hands, his eyes roaming over the tombstone. 

_Maxwell Joseph Lightwood_

_2010 - 2019_

_Beloved brother and son_

The tombstone felt unpersonal. Beloved brother and son? That was not close to what Max was for all of them. And his full name? Everybody that even remotely knew Max, knew that the last thing that Max wanted was his full name so on display. 

He wasn’t sure on who or what he was angry at, but he knew he was. He was furious, his heart fueled with heat, but not whole. 

He never dared to think how it would feel to lose a sibling, but never had he anticipated that it would hurt _this_ much. It was like a literal part of him was ripped out and placed underneath the ground.

Max was his everything. He was more like a father for him, than an actual big brother. Because it weren’t their parents who visited Max’s plays, it weren’t their parents who cooked dinner, it weren’t their parents that went to the school meetings. Their parents paid, while they lived.

And now he’s gone. 

He felt lonely. All alone in this big scary world, no little brother next to him to go through it.

But he wasn’t alone on the graveyard, because on the others side there was a man, standing lost in the distance next to a tombstone.

Magnus wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this, but he must have done something. Was it because he hadn’t shown up for his twentieth birthday. No, he had assured him that it had been okay and that as long as he was happy, that there was no reason to apologize.

Maybe it was because of their fallout three years ago? He had never truly forgive himself for that dumb fight. He had been right, he was always right. He should’ve followed his advice, but no. They stopped talking for about a year, Magnus crawling back to him on his hands and knees because Camille had broken his heart.

But no, he had acted wise and forgiven.

He let his eyes roam over the stone, every little character breaking his heart piece by piece.

_Ragnor Fell_

_1991 - 2019_

_A wise man we will all miss._

And if that wasn’t an understatement, he wasn’t sure what was. Ragnor was probably the wisest man he had ever met. With only three years apart, Magnus had met him back when Ragnor was 18. While Magnus was a lost little boy roaming around the streets of New York, Ragnor took him in. He had helped Magnus finding a job, which led him to where he was now, and he had let him stay with him.

Magnus was positive that Ragnor was a 70 year old in a much younger body.

And now? Now he was gone.

He stared into the distance at the tombstone.

“Cat misses you,” He says suddenly, overcoming with the need to say something. “Raphael does, too, even though he won’t admit it.” He huffs at the thought of his other best friend. Raphael was a master in keeping up a stoic expression, but Magnus had catched the tear that had escaped the corner of his eye. “I do, too.” 

He gazed at the sky. It was a sunny day, no cloud in sight. It made him feel worse, even the weather betrayed him. He blinked the tears away, keeping them at bay.

“I’ve never told you how much.. how much I love you.” A choked sob escaped his lips. “And now I will never have the chance.” And he regretted it. He had never actually thanked Ragnor with words. Never had he told the wise man how much he looked up to him.

But deep down he knew that Ragnor knew. Because it seemed as if Ragnor always knew. 

With tears blurring his sight, he let the simple flowers drop; zinnias. Beautiful, bold pink flowers. Ragnor had always been interested in the language of flowers. He always seemed to know what a particular flower meant. 

“To never forget absent friends,” he choked out, tears spilling. He set a step back, as if he had to create distance or he would lose it all. “But you already knew that,” he whispered. 

If Ragnor was somewhere in heaven, he would look down on Magnus, shaking his head with tears in his eyes. Magnus was sure that he was doing that right now. He didn’t believe in heaven or hell, but he knew that Ragnor was up there. He just had this feeling that he was. He looked up, letting his eyes roam over the deep blue the sky presented.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, not sure if he could actually pronounce the words. 

It was time to go. It was time to _let_ go. It was time to move on. 

He couldn’t.

But he needed to.

So he stepped back, turned around, and walked away.

He yelped when the ground underneath him disappeared. With a loud crash, he met brown sand. He groaned, a bit of sand already gathering in his mouth. He had a faint idea where he was. 

Really, this was something that was the last thing on his list. 

He pushed himself off the floor, his arms aching. He groaned, but stood up. 

Of course he _had_ to fell in an empty grave. 

He dusted the sand off of his t-shirt and sweatpants, but it didn’t take long before he just gave up. His arms were dirty, as were his clothes, and don’t let him get started over his hair and face.

But that wasn’t his main problem right now, because how the hell would he get out of this.

The grave was deep, his unstyled hair not even poking over the edge. He couldn’t rise himself out of it, it was too high. 

He was absolutely, one hundred percent, totally fucked. 

But he would not yell for help, not while he was trapped in a grave. He would get himself out of here. Besides, it was like 6 in the morning on a Saturday, who would even be here?

He walked back and only stopped when the wall of earth hit his back. He nestled himself a bit more in the sand so he would have a good take off. He winced at the sand falling in his shoes. He regretted not wearing longer socks.

He started running. Within not more than two seconds he was on the other side and he jumped, his chest hitting the edge aggressively. Out of instinct, he let his arms hold onto the grass, his feet dangling in the air.

He let himself slide back and tried again. More sand gathered in his shoes, his chest hitting the edge over and over again, his legs starting to ache.

One more time, the last time. This was going to succeed. He would jump just really high so he could push himself up. Yes this was going to work. Absolutely. 

He took off again, jumping and-- he let out a yelp as he was pushed back.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed, his back hitting the ground again. He let his eyes close in pain. Everything hurt, he was dirty, he was hungry and thirsty and he was sure he looked like an utter mess, sand all over him.

He opened his eyes, looking at the person who had the nerves to actually push him back in the grave.

A person who was looking at him with fear in his eyes.

He stood on the edge of the grave, a bit of sand falling down at his feet. His feet accompanied legs and Magnus’s gaze trailed higher. After the legs for days came narrowed hips and a sinfully amount of muscles with a delicious torso, broad shoulders with arms that could pick him up in a second. 

And not only was the pushers body a treat, his face wasn’t that bad either. With a jawline to kill for, high cheekbones and hazel eyes, he looked like a greek god. Dark hair messed up on his head and a faint scruff.

Tall, dark, handsome and crazy.

The pretty ones always had to be the lunatics.

“You- You can talk?” Of course the lunatic spoke. 

“Uh duh!” He sat straighter up, resting himself on his elbows. “I almost succeeded to get out of this fucking grave and of course you had to mess it up.” He was furious, absolutely laced with anger- and a bit turned on at the man in front of him.

“But- But.. I-I” Magnus waited a bit impatiently for the man to scramble some words together. “You’re not a zombie?” That was definitely not what Magnus had expected him to say. He raised an eyebrow in a sassy way.

“Am I a zombie? Are you insane?” He pushed himself up so he finally stood, his clothes now even more ruined, if that was even possible.

“You’re the one that tried to escape a grave at-” he glanced at his watch. “- 6:30 in the morning.” 

So the man might have a point, but that didn’t mean that Magnus was cured from his pain. 

“Just get me out of here, please.” The man grinned and crouched down.

“How am I sure you’re not a zombie?” 

Magnus rolled his eyes and fixated him with a strict glare. The man laughed softly before extending his arms. Magnus narrowed his eyes, this would never in a million years work. But just when he wanted to lace their hands together, the man grabbed him by the armpits and raised him out of the grave.

He did not yelp.

The man smiled innocently when he raised out of his crouching position, Magnus still in his hold, who grasped his arms tightly. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said, calmer than expected, when his feet hit the steady ground again. The man shrugged, as if saying what can I do. 

They stared at each other for a second then, not sure what to do next.

Magnus felt insecure underneath the man’s gaze, even though the man looked like a mess, too. He was just not covered in dirt.

“Alec,” the man blurted out. “That’s my name,” he added awkwardly.

Unconsciously, he began to smile.

“Magnus.” 

And when he realized that this was the first time he genuinely smiled since Ragnor, he surprisingly didn’t feel all too guilty.

Nor did he feel guilty when Alec asked for his phone number.

Nor did he when they had their first date, first kiss, first everything.

And at his wedding, he made sure to thank Ragnor with Alec next to him, gazing at the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I would never say no to kudos and comments and criticism is appreciated!


End file.
